Why? Why? Why do I have to take a running jump into every flaw that lies spread out in front of me? Why can't I just take a big step and climb over it? I have no idea. That's a question I'll probably be asking myself more often. Because I have the strangely unpleasant feeling that this moment was not the last.
"I'm sorry, Alexander. Again," I say ashamedly, lowering my gaze and picking imaginary lint off my trousers. Keeping my hands busy, I quickly think of another topic. Fuck. This is so embarrassing. The morning started so beautifully. But one thoughtless sentence can dangerously shake the mood.
"Why?" he asks, reaching for my hand as if it were a matter of course.

"Well, I didn't exactly speak well of your father. And it certainly wasn't intentional. If I had known..."
"Calm down Magnus. How would you know? I'm not angry with you." Reassuringly, Alexander strokes the back of my hand. He's not angry and that does relieve me.
"Would you like to hear the story about the apron?" he asks, chuckling. Apparently it's quite a positive memory.
"I'd love to," I reply, eager to hear what he tells me.
"My dad was very proud of me. Always. How brave I was when I got sick. Or endured the pain and the prolonged stay in hospital. I was just a kid and there were days when I was alone. My isolation from the world that I never wanted and yet accepted. Not always without comment, but I accepted it until that birthday. He proudly carried the letter of confirmation for my place at university through the streets of our town, telling everyone that I was a doctor and would save the lives of others in the future. Mum was proud of me too. And my sister also got the same dose of pride, love and affection as me. Izzy didn't feel unloved. Because my parents made no distinction between us. I told you about my coming out. And how nonchalant my parents were about it. That's not a given. I am well aware of that. And yet, it wasn't all joy and sparkling rainbows. I too have suffered from homophobia. Not as much as you. But it wasn't pretty either."

"What happened?" I ask, surprised. I didn't expect that. Alexander and homophobia?
"Our church congregation was mostly of one mind, after all. God created Adam and Eve. And not Adam and Joseph. There were looks and whispers. Not everyone was as open-minded as they had always claimed. It was strange. People I had known all my life suddenly stopped talking to me. Or our conversation was so short that it didn't even qualify as small talk. But there was also approval of Adam and Joseph. My biggest benefactor was a lovely elderly lady. Mrs Lavinia Jones. I loved her. She always wore a colourful costume and a hat with a little lace veil in front of her eyes. Matching coloured gloves, old school. Mrs Jones had a hip complaint. But in her head she was as fit as a twenty-year-old. She was approaching ninety and despite her old age she smiled a lot. No one contradicted her. Everyone in the congregation valued her and her opinion. One day she came to me after the service. I still remember that I had argued with Simon the day before. The priest's speech couldn't have been more appropriate. Purgatory. Everyone knew he was talking about me. And nobody said anything. So Mrs Jones came up to me, smiling as usual. We talked for a while about school and my health. I told her about my wish to become a doctor. And suddenly she took my hands, looked me so deeply in the eyes that I panicked slightly. For her old age, her grip was really strong. I will never forget this conversation. Her poison-green eyes pierced me and I almost believed that she would crush my hands at any moment. Then she said, "You must never deny yourself. Stand by yourself, be yourself. Fuck what others say." I nodded and had tears in my eyes. It was a bit much for my already unstable teenage feelings. My dad arrived and suddenly she had his hands in a vice grip. Dad didn't know what hit him. "Your son is gay. Do you have a problem with that?" You should have seen his face. Confused. Unbelieving. It took him a moment to understand. That was all she said. Dad shook his head and told her that it doesn't matter who I love. He just wants me to be happy. And if it takes a man to do that, so be it. The main thing is that he likes to go fishing. The three of us laughed heartily. It was an incredibly emotional moment for me. Hearing my father's words was beautiful. I was so happy and my argument with Simon wasn't quite so bad anymore. Well Magnus, that was the beginning of a ritual that Dad performed until he died. And how he performed it. On the anniversary of my coming out, he gave me a key ring. It was round and had a rainbow flag on it. As well as the saying 'I'm gay. Don't worry, it's not contagious.' Laugh or scream. Scream with laughter? That was the question. I didn't know. But I loved the gift and how relaxed they were about it. From then on, I got a special present every year. Mum helped choose. But the final decision was Dad's. Once he gave me a bracelet with black balls. One of the baubles was a Pride. The bracelet is great. I still have it and I wear it on special occasions. And if you think the apron is a gross gift, then I have to disappoint you," Alexander finishes his story and leaves me with the question about the gift.

He calmly turns his attention to the breakfast on his plate, spears the now really cold eggs and takes a big sip of coffee, which I'm sure is also ice cold. As is his disregard for my curiosity.
"Alexander," I say excitedly.
"Yes Magnus?" he asks completely innocently. But the smile he tries to hide betrays him.
"You can't just leave it like that now," I reply.
"Are you interested?" he asks in a soft voice. I hear slight insecurity coming out. Is it that bad?
"Of course I'm interested."
"Bedding," he says dryly, swiping a pancake from my plate. With a rather confused expression, I look at him. Bedding? I have no idea what he me... Oh, I might have a clue after all.

"What's on it? Something dirty?"
"No," he says.
"Stripes. The pattern of the Pride flag. When the sheets are up, you feel like you're sleeping under a giant flag. And that's anything but sexy," he says, shaking his head with a snort.
"I love Dad. But this really is the most curious thing he's ever given me."
"Or," I say theatrically, taking one of the strawberries and holding it in front of Alexander's lips. He fixes his blue eyes on my lips lustfully, slowly opens his mouth. Just a crack and I push the tip of the fruity-sweet red berry between his sinful lips.
"You feel safe in the arms of your partner. Enveloped in love and a rainbow, white unicorns and glitter dust."
"Okay, now you're corny," he says, chuckling, and I too fall into the orchestra of his deep bass.

My tension eases and we finish breakfast in silence. It really is delicious and Alexander has gone to so much trouble. The cold coffee was replaced by freshly brewed hot coffee, new pancakes landed on my plate and another fragrant cup of ginger tea also joined our breakfast as if by magic. That makes me happy, even if not everything went as I had always imagined in my dreams. But what are my dreams against reality. It is rarely like in fairy tales or kitsch novels. The poor farmer's daughter meets the prince, a bit of drama, singing animals and a witch later, the saviour finally arrives and a bright future begins. Only in my case it's a poor Indonesian student, some drama, no singing animals. Instead, a jealous pushy waiter, an eventful night and an enlightening morning. Whether we will have a bright future remains to be seen. Not tomorrow, or next week. Maybe not even a year from now. But what is certain is that I will do everything I can to have Alexander in my life permanently.

Together we clean up the traces of our meal, put away the dishes, giggle and destroy the last berries and as a reward Alexander gives me a kiss that makes me dizzy and puts this wonderfully intoxicating veil over me. Fuck how does he do that?
"Do you have any plans for today?", I ask, snuggling even closer to his chest. Alexander's sofa is cosy as fuck. Right after he directed us here kissing, Alexander pulled me into his arms and at the first contact of my body with this dream of cushions I was sure. This is where I would stay. In Alexander's arms and a comfortable sofa.
"To be honest, yes. I still have an appointment with Raphael to buy a tree. And I have to pay the bill. Clary found a new gingerbread recipe. Every Christmas I bake biscuits and gingerbread from an old family recipe my mother used to make. Her grandmother came from the Black Forest. She told us a secret or two.' I listen intently to his words while Alexander runs his fingers through my hair incessantly. Just a little longer and I start purring like a cat.

"'I'm afraid I don't understand everything. Tree? For Christmas, right?" Alexander nods and I'm glad to know at least some of the customs.
"Okay and you bake?"
"Yeah. I'm really good at it. Charlie and I have a ritual. Baking biscuits. So I bake. She snacks on the decorations." I can see it in my mind's eye.
"Do you wear the apron then too?"
"Yes," he confirms, blowing a kiss on the tip of my nose, and again the butterflies inside me get ready to soar.
"Charlie knows I've always wanted to marry a man. Clary is bringing her up very openly. That's a good thing too. I am, after all, her godfather. And even though I love Charlie dearly, I wouldn't want to miss out on happiness with a man."
"I can well understand that. You've been living out of the closet for years and have the support of family and friends. That's really nice," I say.
"What are you doing for Christmas?" The question comes so quickly and unexpectedly, I have no idea. For me, it's a day like any other.
"Nothing," I answer honestly.
"Hmm, what do you think about me introducing you to the magic of the American Christmas season? Only if that's what you want. I definitely don't want to push you into anything." Alexander is incredulous. He knows very well that Indonesians don't celebrate a classic Christmas like in other countries. This is because only a small part of the population is Christian. At 5 to 10 percent, they are definitely in the minority.

"Hari Natal is the name of Christmas in my language. Did you know that?", I ask and get an expected negative shake of the head.
"My parents are not Christians. That's why we don't celebrate Christmas. We get together with family, watch movies, eat lots of delicious food and there are no presents. The shopping malls are definitely decorated and Christmas music is also played. But the real spark never took hold for me. I don't know. I always found it strange that there was a sweltering heat and snowmen everywhere for decoration. The lights, on the other hand, I always thought were beautiful. I was able to get some really great shots there. So what's your plan? Christmas just the two of us on this ultra cosy and huge sofa?"

Embarrassed, Alexander chews on his lower lip, considering, analysing, weighing different options. The little cogs in his head turn, teeth meshing, making the apparatus of thought work. Apologetically, he smiles at me and for whatever reason, I just feel slightly nauseous.
"As much as I'd like that, I'm afraid it's not possible. The thought of just the two of us is fantastic. But since Jace died, our family ritual has changed."
"Oh. I didn't know that. That's okay. This is important to you guys. So make everything exactly the same," I reply, suppressing the rising disappointment. The idea was just too good.
"But that doesn't mean you can't be a part of it. Raphael cooks every year. And to make sure Charlie has something from everyone in her family, here's how it works. Christmas Eve takes place here. We eat together, listen to my mum's old records and eat the biscuits Charlie and I have lovingly baked. We sit around the tree and unwrap our presents one by one. Afterwards, Clary drives to Jace's parents' house and spends the night there with Charlie. On the morning of Christmas Day, she finds the rest of the presents under the Christmas tree at her grandparents' house and spends the day with them. In the evening she calls me and tells me about the presents and how crooked Grandpa Stephen sang Jingle Bells. Then we laugh together and I read her a bedtime story. We think of Jace and wish him a Merry Christmas with the angels there above.... Magnus everything okay?"

"Yes," I say sniffling and wiping my eyes quickly. No tears, please. I don't want him to see me crying.
"Are you crying?" he asks worriedly.
"Maybe," I answer quietly. For a moment no one says a word and I am infinitely grateful to Alexander for giving me time and not asking questions. Soothingly, his fingers glide through my hair, softly humming the same tune as he prepares breakfast. The vibration of his bass pulses against my cheek, his strong heartbeat and the warmth of his body make me sigh contentedly. I haven't seen my family in two years and right now I miss them all very much. I can guess how Alexander must be feeling. My parents are still alive, but the distance and lack of sufficient communication sometimes feels like they are no longer there. I miss them. I miss my home. The crowded streets, the many people. Even the stuffy air and sweltering heat. The smell of familiar spices, the food and the friendliness of the people. America is so different from my home country and I still have trouble finding my way around. Of course, the fact that I spend most of my time studying or earning money also contributes to this. So it is impossible to get to know people and to get a genuine insight into the life of an outed man. I can count on one hand the few times I went to a bar with my fellow students or went ice skating in Central Park.

"I would love to have you with me. With me. My family," Alexander says at some point and my heart does somersaults, performs a dance of joy and my smile stretches from here to Jakarta.
"Only if I don't inconvenience you. We haven't known each other that long and I don't want to intrude."
"You're not interrupting. I feel like I know more about you than I do about some others. And I want so much more... wait a minute." The excited vibrating of his phone interrupts our conversation, I sigh, sit up and see the tense expression on his face. The call doesn't seem to mean anything good.
"Andrew, please tell me the world is ending right now. Otherwise I'm hanging up again.... hmhm... That's not what I wanted to hear.... Fuck Andrew why? That's none of your business. You're just my colleague." Alexander is upset. He nervously runs his fingers through his hair, looks at me apologetically and I know our day ends here. He doesn't have to say it, I understand.

"You owe me one. Tell Catarina I'll be there in twenty minutes. At least give me time to get my boyfriend a taxi and see him off." Boyfriend? Did he just say boyfriend?
"Sorry. That was the hospital. I have to cover a colleague's shift," he says, but I don't care right now.
"What did you say?", I ask quietly.
"I have to go to the hospital. Right away. I'm sorry."
"No that's not what I mean. Before that."
"That I'll call you a taxi first. I know someone. Sam. His son is a regular in my ER. He loves to skateboard. Just not well, unfortunately, and the half-pipe has already given him a broken bone or two."
"Alexander," I say, taking his hands in mine and instantly having his undivided attention.
"You called me your friend," I say in a firm voice. At least I tried to. I didn't quite succeed, though. My heart is beating fast, I'm excited.

"Yes I did. Are you going too fast? We haven't even talked about what's going to happen with us." No we haven't. We've talked about a lot of things. Or we haven't. I have no experience in such things, don't know when the right moment is to define his status. Alexander looks at me waiting, gently caressing my skin. Again there is this tingling desire for more. More of him and his touch, but it would not be enough. I feel insatiable, could spend the rest of my life sitting here on this sofa, enjoying his caresses and listening to the soft words.
"That sounds wonderful," I say. Alexander nods, pressing his lips to mine, and inside me the knot of my past, all insecurities and doubts, unravels. Is what we are doing right? Are we going too fast and falling headlong into hell? Yes, probably. But that is not important at the moment.

"I have to warn you," I say, panting. His kisses are pure madness.
"About what?" he asks.
"I've never been in a relationship before. I have no idea what's coming. I'll probably say things that hurt you more often. Or do something that will drive you to the brink of insanity."
"Doesn't matter. As long as it comes from you and you're still with me afterwards, it doesn't matter. I like going down this road. With you. As my friend."
"Fuck are we corny," I laugh and Alexander shakes his head so vigorously I fear he'll suffer whiplash.
"No Magnus. We're just two guys who love each other."